Black to the Future
by video games and other stuff
Summary: Samantha has launched one final epic assault on the world, this time taking place in the future! Can Task Force 935 and some new friends stop her once and for all? My third and sadly, last entry in my "Task Force 935" series, and a Black Ops 2 fanfic!
1. Family Fight

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Call of Duty, nor am I on the Treyarch developing team (though I wished I was, D:)**

**Hello once again! Here it is, the third "Task Force 935" fanfic! Yes, this is Black Ops 2 fanfic, even though the game isn't even out (as of writing this), :P**

Black to the Future

Chapter 1

**Griffin Base, the Moon**

**April 20, 2017, 15:03:34 Greenwich Meridian Time**

Samantha was a very unhappy girl.

After the failure at Der Riese seven months ago, the ex-Phony and zombie controller had retreated back to the Moon. For months, she wallowed in anger, sadness, but most of all, thought. Thought on a new plan to get her revenge on the world. Zombies were out of the question – Der Riese had been the last unguarded storage of Element 115 in the world. "Had been"were the key words here; the former Nazi complex was now crawling with soldiers and scientists of numerous countries.

Samantha had been ready to give up and admit defeat when she found out something curious. It was discovered quite by accident, actually. She had been bored and depressed out of her mind (who said plotting plans of mass destruction was easy?), and decided to teleport into the future just to take a look. It wasn't like sending zombies or clones to attack the future world would yield any new results.

She teleported to the year 2025, and found something new. Something unexpected. Something that she needed.

This new discovery gave Samantha the spark needed for her new plan. It was a plan that no one had ever even dreamed of before. Even Samantha herself was a little doubtful that it would succeed – but hey, desperate times call for desperate measures. For two months she worked out every detail in it, until she was confident that the chances of success were at a maximum.

Now, Samantha was ready to initiate the plan. Entering the desired time period into the teleporter, she was about to activate it when man appeared a few meters away from her. However, she wasn't alarmed – on the contrary, she smiled and greeted the man.

"Hello, Daddy."

Dr. Maxis was a being similar to his daughter, in the fact that both had been killed but resurrected as something that no one, not even them, was familiar with. However, Dr. Maxis hadn't been as fortunate as Samantha to come back in the flesh-and-blood form; rather, he was what most people would call a "ghost".

"Hello, dear."

"You'll be proud to hear zhat I am about to start another plan to avenge you. And zhis time, it vill succeed." Samantha smiled, waiting for her father to give praise, but instead Dr. Maxis frowned.

"Actually, Samantha, I'm here to talk about you "avenging" me."

Now it was Samantha's turn to frown. Had her father gotten soft?

"Daddy, you know zhat zhe vorld vill always be hell as long as zhat evil Richtofen valks free on it."

"Yes, I know. And I still can't forgive him for vhat he did to us both. But don't you zhink zhat it's getting out of hand? Like your recent plan vith WWIII. Vas it really necessary to invade entire countries, killing innocents in zhe process?"

Samantha frowned once again. This wasn't like her father to talk about things like this. "Zhey vere expendable. Zhe real prize is Richtofen."

"Listen to me," Dr. Maxis said sternly. "You've avenged my death a hundred times over in WWIII, not to mention everyone zhat vas killed in zhe 20th century. It's about time zhat you stopped."

Samantha looked at her father with cold, emotionless eyes. "Only Richtofen's death can avenge you. And I vill stop at nothing to get zhat."

She harshly stabbed the teleporter's starter button, and the machine hummed to life. Dr. Maxis was truly worried now. When he had been first turned into this…thing, he had as much hate for Richtofen as Samantha did. But over the years, the hate had faded until it was only a loathing. Granted, he wasn't ever going to forgive Richtofen. But he wasn't going to destroy the world to hunt him down.

"Samantha, please…" he began, but stopped. His daughter had turned around to glare once again at him, and for the first time he realized that Samantha had become a monster, consumed by hate and driven by hate.

"Goodbye, Daddy," Samantha said harshly. Then the teleporter flashed and she was gone, leaving Dr. Maxis standing in the middle of Griffin Base.

The Nazi scientist bit his lip. This wasn't how he expected Samantha to react. He mentally sighed as he prepared to go to his next location. Well, who said talking to children was easy?

**Fort A.P. Hill, Virginia**

**April 20, 2017, 10:12:00**

"Aaannnd…time's up."

Price lowered his M4A1, surveying his work on the firing range. Of the cardboard cutouts that had popped up, he had hit all but two of them.

"Nice work, Price," Soap congratulated.

"Thanks, mate." The captain changed his mag, flipped the safety on and joined his Task Force 935 buddies sitting on one of the benches for spectators. Soap, Yuri and Nikolai the Pilot had already gone, with three, four, and six misses, respectively. Richtofen was up next.

"I don't think I'll be as accurate as you," Nikolai the Pilot said glumly. "These hands were made to fly, not to shoot."

"Well, flying is still important in war. Don't forget that."

"Hey everyone, let's see if Richtofen can beat Price," Yuri said as the Doctor prepped his M16A1.

"Heh, two misses is the lowest I've ever…" the words died in Soap's throat as they watched Richtofen unloaded the mag into the cutouts, with each burst a perfect headshot.

"Oh…never mind."

Dempsey laughed. "You spend days on end stuck in a building with a bunch of bloodthirsty maggot sacks, you learn to aim for the head."

Richtofen finished terrorizing the cardboard, and Dempsey stood up to take a go at them. His performance was just as impressive as Richtofen's. So was Takeo's, and Nikolai the Drunk's was so-so. But that was probably because of the vodka. When Task Force 935 first came onto A.P. Hill, the fort commander had tried to force the Russian to become sober. After a grand total of twenty-seven alcohol-free hours, Nikolai the Drunk had stolen one of the fort's jeeps and headed to the nearest alcohol store, injuring sixteen guards in the process. He was allowed to drink after that.

After more exercises, the group was finally allowed to go back to their barrack for a rest before dinner. They propped their guns up against the wall and flung themselves into their bunks, either to chat in comfort or take a nap. However, they were interrupted when the middle of the barrack flashed with light, temporarily blinding everyone. When Task Force 935's vision returned, they found themselves looking at a young man. None of them knew who he was, until Richtofen coolly told them: "Hello, Maxis."

"Richtofen," Dr. Maxis answered, also coolly.

"Whoa! You're that Dr. Maxis guy who Richtofen worked with!" Dempsey said.

Takeo bowed. "It's an honor to meet you in person."

Dr. Maxis gave a nervous chuckle. "Well, I won't exactly call myself a person. But zhat's another story," he said, growing urgent. "Samantha has gone into zhe future to do only God knows vhat, and you all need to chase after her!"

Soap gave a confused look. "Umm…if I remember correctly what Richtofen told us, Samantha's your daughter."

"And?"

"Well, it seems awfully strange to tell some soldiers to go stop and possibly kill your daughter."

Dr. Maxis sighed and sat down on a bunk. "It is. It pains me to no end. But I've just realized vhat a monster she has become, so I tell myself it's for zhe better. Still…" the German scientist trailed off, lost in his thoughts.

"If you really want to do this, we'll do it," Nikolai the Pilot said. The others nodded.

Dr. Maxis heaved a sigh. "All right then."

"Wait. You said Samantha went into the future. So we need a teleporter for this," Price said.

"Oh, zhat. No vorries; I've got a trick up my sleeve," Dr. Maxis said as he closed his eyes and concentrated on the eight men around him.

"Really? What's tha –" Nikolai the Drunk began, but was cut short as Dr. Maxis teleported Task Force 935 to the future. One of his powers was the ability to teleport people and objects all by himself. He suspected Samantha also possessed that talent, but either she didn't know about it or didn't like using it (it drained his energy as fast as a man lost in a desert would chug down water). In later years, the incident would become one of the greatest pieces of military folklore of all time: eight elite men disappearing without a trace right in the middle of a busy army fort.

Exhausted, Dr. Maxis slumped back onto a bunk. The game was afoot.


	2. Welcome to 2025

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**Plumerwithguitar: Sorry, can you explain further? If you've found an error please tell me so that I can try to correct it.**

**anon: Well, not exactly, but close to that!**

**Coolguyforever: It was actually you who convinced me, if I remember correctly :P**

**OpTcxXxProtocol: Well, here it is!**

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**anon (second review): Sorry if I kept you waiting o.0**

Chapter 2

**Los Angeles, California**

**June 19, 2025, 08:50:45**

"Bravo 1-1, this is Stalker 1-1. Is everything in order?"

"Roger, Stalker 1-1. All equipment has been checked and readied."

David Mason put a mag into his XM8 assault rifle as his commanding officer and squadmate, Clayton Harper, radioed Stalker 1-1. Both teams were part of the US presidential safeguard cruising along the freeway to L.A. for the annual G-20 summit. Three Serpent helicopters provided aerial cover, as well as a fleet of F-50 VTOL (Vertical Take-Off and Landing) jets. The entire setup seemed a bit like overkill, considering previous safeguards made up of only Secret Service agents and cops, but recent events had upped everyone's caution.

Just five months ago, China had officially overtaken the US as the world's #1 economy. The gap wasn't huge, but relations between the two superpowers had already been a bit rocky. The reason? China's strict control of rare earth elements, essential in everyday devices around the world. The Asian country controlled over 75% of the world's supply of these resources, therefore making countries everywhere dependant on China. Efforts were being made by the US and other countries to mine the seabed (which contained a vast, untapped source of rare earth elements), but the dolts in the government were slowing the process down as usual. Tensions between China and the US had risen, and just a few weeks ago China had announced that it was boycotting this year's G-20 summit.

Maybe they should call it the G-19 summit instead, Mason thought, and smirked at his joke, though the situation was anything but funny.

Protestors lining the streets greeted the convoy as it entered Los Angeles. The phrase "Down with greed!" was chanted over and over. Rallies and marches had been going on for the past eight days now, demanding that the US do something about China's recent announcement that exportations of rare earth elements will decrease by 15%. China said that they just couldn't keep up with demand. Other countries said that China was stashing rare earth elements away to up the value. None of the parties were very happy.

There were also robots and drones in L.A. as part of the G-20 security. CLAWs (Cognitive Land Assault Weapons) stomped on the road with their four robotic legs. MQ-12 Annihilators soared in the skies, rockets primed to take out any threat.

The convoy slowly snaked through the streets of L.A., until it finally reached the site of the G-20 meeting, which was the Los Angeles Convention Center. Teams Bravo and Stalker jumped out, guns at the ready. The two teams formed a human shield as the President of the United States stepped out of her car.

Yep, the president was a woman. The first in American history, elected in 2024. She was in her fifties, but radiated confidence and determination. While past presidents were little more than talking heads to the public, somehow the current president managed to connect and seem human. Maybe that was why she got the job.

There were protesters outside the Convention Center as well, but police barricades kept them from getting too close. That didn't stop some diehards, however. Mason saw a man jump the barricade, chanting "Down with greed!" He disappeared under a flurry of police officers that descended on him like a pack of wolves.

"Okay, _now _I see why they called us in," Mason said to Harper. Harper nodded.

"Bravo 1-1, the president is inside the building. Continue maintaining a defensive position," Stalker 1-1 radioed. They were to accompany the president herself while Team Bravo stood guard outside the building.

"Copy that," Harper replied.

Mason groaned. "Really? We have to deal with these guys –" he waved a hand at the protesters "– while they get to stand outside a door?"

"Hey, cheer up," Harper said. "Maybe we'll get to see the cops use tear gas or something on them." The protesters continued chanting away in the background.

* * *

Price sure didn't expect to arrive in 2025 by bashing his face on the floor of a van. But that was what he did, as he had materialized three feet of the ground.

"Ow! Nice going, Dr. Maxis," he complained as he picked himself up.

"Teleporting is a funny business," Richtofen replied. "Vithout a machine, it's more unstable zhan you zhink."

"Oh, don't go into another science talk now," Dempsey groaned.

"Vhy, of course. I vouldn't vant to overload your brain vith too much information," the German replied with a mocking smile.

"So, this is the future," Nikolai the Pilot said. "A metal box with two doors."

They were interrupted by the aforementioned doors bursting open and a man, whose name tag read "HARPER", holding a futuristic gun. It was pointed straight at Task Force 935.

"Alright, folks. Party's over. Get out with your hands behind your head."

As they had teleported without the chance to grab their weapons first, the group had no choice but to follow Harper's orders. Slowly, the eight marched out of the metal box, which turned out to be an armored van. Sunlight made Price's eyes squint. He saw a bunch of cops standing in front of a chanting and shouting group, as well as more armed men standing around. Had they landed in some rebellious police state?

Now that they were in daylight, Harper took a closer look at the men he had just captured. However, he soon balked when he recognized them.

"Whoa! No way! You guys look just like…what was the name? Force 953 or something like that?"

"Task Force 935," Soap automatically replied, surprised that they had been recognized. "How did you hear about us?"

Harper gave him a confused look. "Don't you know? You guys have been missing for almost a decade now! You're famous! Well, actually most people thought you were dead."

That made sense. During the teleportation they would have skipped eight years to get from 2017 to 2025.

"Okay, let's go with that. The real story would just get us laughed out," Price said.

"I'm assuming randomly appearing in an armored van is also part of that story?" Mason asked. Price nodded.

"Hey, what's the red light on the ground for?" Nikolai the Drunk asked.

"What red light?"

"Wait, it's moving. It's in that crowd of people now."

Harper and Mason turned around. True to the Russian's word, part of the crowd of protesters was bathed in a faint red light.

"That looks awfully close to an Annihilator's targeting light," Mason mused. "But that can't be –"

His words were cut short as the illuminated part of the crowd exploded in a fountain of gore and meat chunks. Banners were vaporized, signs were blasted into a million splinters. The chants of protest turned to screams of panic and fear. Another red light appeared, this time in a different spot. It, too, was soon replaced by an explosion of death.

"Holy shit!" Mason and Dempsey shouted at the same time. Harper immediately got on his comms set.

"This is Bravo 1-1 to all units. We are under attack by unknown hostiles, I repeat; we are under attack by unknown hostiles!"

An Annihilator drone streaked past. As they watched in terrified fascination, the machine fired a missile. Their eyes followed the projectile down, down, down…right into the Los Angeles Convention Center.

"What the…our own drones are doing this?" Harper shouted. "Shit! Okay guys, our first priority is the president. Let's go get her out of here, now!"

Team Bravo and the still-unarmed Task Force 935 entered the Convention Center as the Annihilator continued firing its payload of death. Inside, they found that an Annihilator missile had detonated on the portion of the roof right above the hallway beside the G-20 meeting room. Nine men of Team Stalker were down, but thankfully the missile had missed the meeting room itself. The door of the meeting room had vanished, and a gaping hole marred the floor. Only three men of Team Stalker were still alive, including Stalker 1-1.

"What's attacking us?" Stalker 1-1 asked, still dazed from the blast. "There was a huge explosion…"

"Our drones! Malfunctioning or something! Get the president out!" Those were the only words Harper spared. He rushed over to the female leader, who was huddled behind the conference table in fear. Other G-20 leaders were either doing the same or standing in shock.

"We've gotta get the entire G-20 out of here!" Mason said as the full gravity of the situation hit him.

Task Force 935, meanwhile, had been scavenging the bodies of the dead Team Stalker men. Richtofen claimed an XM8 and some ammo that a poor soul would never use again. "Do not vorry. You have got us on your side."

"Yeah, and thank God for that. We'll need all the men we can get," Harper said grimly.

He helped the president up as Mason started talking to the other G-20 leaders. "Okay, listen up! We're going to try and evacuate you folks out of here. Do exactly what we tell you, and we should get through this just fine." The leaders nodded slowly. Back in their countries, the responsibility of millions of peoples' lives rested on their shoulders. Now they had to entrust their lives to this ragtag group of men.

At least, I hope we get through this just fine, Mason silently thought.


	3. Distracted Driving

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**A Random Person: Thanks! I'm adding more detail now that it's been brought to my attention**

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**Lily: After this chapter, I have a feeling you'll want me to update as fast as possible again ;)**

Chapter 3

**Los Angeles Convention Center, Los Angeles**

**June 19, 2025, 09:21:46**

Harper gingerly skirted the hole in the floor as he, Task Force 935, the rest of Team Bravo, and the remains of Team Stalker led the G-20 leaders out of the ruined meeting room. The sound of battle, meanwhile, still raged on outside. Other military units were also in L.A. as part of G-20 security, but more than half of the military might had been composed of drones and robots – the same drones and robots that had turned hostile on their owners for some reason.

Mason was frantically radioing any units known to him, requesting assistance for evac of the G-20 leaders. So far, all of his efforts had been met with nothing but static. That painted a grim picture of the situation.

"I've gotten nothing, Harper," he finally said after another futile attempt. "Looks like we're on our own."

"Hopefully we can find a vehicle of some sorts so that we can drive our way out of here," Harper replied.

As the group descended, they could see the once-elegant glass of the Convention Center marred by gaping and jagged holes. More Annihilator drones were buzzing around in the sky, but thankfully their targets seemed to be elsewhere, such as the F-50s dogfighting them. Crunching broken glass under their feet, the group reached the doors that led outside.

"Stay behind us and keep your heads down as much as you can," Harper told the G-20 leaders. He and his fellow soldiers tensed before kicking open the doors, guns at the ready.

A scene of total carnage and destruction lay before them. In the distance, smoke and flames rose out of the once-majestic skyline of Los Angeles. The US Bank Tower had four craters in it. Directly in front of the group were bodies. Police officers, protesters, civilians – all were the same in the eyes of the drones: targets to be neutralized. The Serpent helicopters that had provided aerial cover were down as well. One had even crash-landed in the famous Staples Center nearby, its tail sticking out of the roof like a finger pointed at the heavens. The glass façade of the Staples Center was also smashed to pieces.

An Annihilator must have shot a missile at the road right in front of the Convention Center's entrance. The armored vans, presidential car, and other vehicles of the presidential convoy were little more than burnt-out scrap metal. Other cars that had occupied the street were destroyed as well.

"Hello? Is this the team protecting the G-20?" a voice crackled through Mason's earpiece.

"Yes! Who is this?" Mason replied, relieved that someone out there had received their message for help.

"US Special Forces. We got the call that you guys had the G-20 with you."

"We do. We're at the entrance of the L.A. Convention Center."

"Okay, hang tight. We'll be there in ten minutes."

"Great news, everyone. Some Special Forces team will be here in ten minutes," Mason said. "All we have to do is sit tight and wait."

"I'm not so sure about zhat," Richtofen replied, pointing at an intersection nearby. As they followed his finger, the group groaned in dismay. Three CLAWs were stomping down the road, bent on finishing the job of eliminating the G-20.

"Team Stalker, you guys get the G-20 back inside. We'll try to hold back the drones," Harper ordered. Team Stalker nodded. They hustled the world leaders back into the Convention Center as Team Bravo and Task Force 935 prepared for battle.

"So…we now have robots in the military?" Soap asked Harper.

"Yep. First one was introduced in 2021."

One CLAW's mounted minigun swung their way and began firing. They took cover behind the presidential convoy ruins and began returning fire. However, they soon found out that the robot's armor was more than enough to shake off the bullets pinging off it.

"I'm going through ammo as fast as I go through vodka!" Nikolai the Drunk called out.

"Try shooting the legs! I remember we got told that the legs are weakest!" Harper shouted.

The group switched their attention from the CLAW's body to its legs. True to Harper's memory, the joints in the legs posed a significant risk to the robot. One leg seized up, causing the war machine to topple over on its side. Sparks flew, and the CLAW stilled, dead.

"Hell yeah!" Dempsey punched the air.

The group used the same tactic successfully on one of the remaining CLAWs, but the final one had the sense to take cover behind the shell of a pickup truck. With its legs safely shielded behind the once-functional vehicle, it could blast away at Team Bravo and Task Force 935 without any worry. Five Team Bravo soldiers went down with groans and sprays of blood.

"What now?" Yuri asked as he sunk into cover. The others were doing the same.

"Hold on! I've still got an EMP grenade!" a Team Bravo soldier said. He proudly raised a hand. Grasped in it was a blue, cylindrical object, with a black stud at both ends.

"Can you toss it that far to the CLAW?" Mason asked.

The soldier's face fell. "I don't think so, sir."

"Wait! He can use those cars in the street as cover while we distract that robot!" Nikolai the Pilot said.

"You are right, honorable friend," Takeo said as he thought over Nikolai the Pilot's suggestion.

"That's a great idea," Harper said. He turned to the soldier who had the EMP grenade. "Do you think you can do it?"

The soldier gulped nervously. "I'll try, sir."

"Okay then," Harper said. "Get ready. Suppressing in 3…2…1…now!"

The group popped out of cover and began firing at the CLAW. Meanwhile, the soldier with the EMP grenade quickly dashed to a car that had been abandoned in the middle of the road. So far, so good.

They paused to reload, and then continued to keep the CLAW's attention trained on them. The soldier with the EMP grenade dashed forward to another car, and then threw the weapon at the CLAW. Unfortunately, the robot noticed him at the last minute. The soldier was flung back as he was shot by the CLAW's minigun. But he had done his job. The EMP grenade flew through the air, landed square in the pickup truck's bed, and exploded with a soft orangish glow. The CLAW was caught in the blast radius, and seized up as its electronic innards were scrambled. It collapsed as a heap of useless junk on the asphalt.

"Very good. I vonder vhat I could make vith zhis advanced technology…" Richtofen pondered, the scientific side of him briefly taking over from the mad side.

"Our ride is here!" a Team Bravo soldier announced. Six armored vans pulled up to where the group of armed men were standing. Special Forces soldiers jumped out as the three Team Stalker men emerged from the Convention Center with the G-20.

"This everyone who made it?" the commanding officer of the new arrivals asked.

"Unfortunately," Harper replied.

"Wait…who are these guys?" the officer pointed towards Task Force 935, who looked very out of place in their outfits.

Harper spoke in a hushed whisper. "They're Task Force 935. The elite group that went missing eight years ago?"

"No way!" the officer replied, also hushed. "How did they pop up here?"

"They say it's a weird story," Harper said. "Anyway, they can shoot, so they can hold their own."

"Glad to hear." While he and Harper had been talking, the Special Forces soldiers had been directing the G-20 into the armored vans. Two of the vehicles now contained some of the most powerful men and women in the world, with some soldiers for defense if anything went wrong. The other four vans were for everyone else.

"We've got some F-50s providing air support, as well as a Serpent that's coming in one minute," the Special Forces commanding officer informed Task Force 935 and Team Bravo.

They left as soon as the Serpent and F-50s arrived. Their destination was the Los Angeles Memorial Coliseum, which had been converted into a command center for US forces in the city. Once the G-20 arrived there, they could be airlifted out of the fresh hell that was L.A.

However, the drones weren't going to let them off the hook that easily. As soon as they had gotten on the highway, the Serpent hovering above them was knocked out of the air in a spectacular explosion. Another Annihilator had found them, and one of its missiles had destroyed their personal air cover. The van that Task Force 935 was in swerved wildly as its driver dodged the falling wreck of the Serpent. Its occupants flew through the vehicle, painfully bashing themselves against the metal walls with shouts of panic and pain.

A nearby explosion informed them that the damn Annihilator had taken another shot at them. They had just passed under a road sign that read, "SOUTH – San Pedro", when the driver gave a cry of alarm. A CLAW had appeared on the side of the road and was shooting at them. While the van was armored, its tires were not. They blew out with loud bangs, and the van tilted to the right. The driver had no time to brake before the vehicle veered severely off course.

The van's momentum led to it colliding into the CLAW itself. While it did disable the hostile robot, it led to the van crumpling up like a tin can. The front of the vehicle was smushed as it slammed into the hulk of metal that was the CLAW.

The last thing Price saw was his fellow soldiers lying all over the place, bloodied, bruised, and in some cases, dead. Then merciful darkness claimed him.

The other vans had witnessed the collision, but could do nothing. To turn back now would put the lives of the G-20 leaders at stake. True, the F-50s that were covering the convoy had chased down and destroyed the offending Annihilator, but there was no telling what lurked in the buildings that lined the road. So, much to Harper and Mason's regret, the vans continued south to the Memorial Coliseum.

"I feel really bad. We just met them and now we're abandoning them," Harper said sadly.

"Well, they were one of the most elite groups in the army," Mason tried to reassure his friend. "I'm sure they can look out for themselves."

The wrecked van, meanwhile, continued to lay silent beside the road. It gave no signs of life.


	4. A Church of War

**Replies to reviews:**

**Coolguyforever: Don't worry, I wouldn't kill them off this soon in the story ;)**

**A Random Person: Thanks! Your enthusiasm is contagious :D**

**Spyash2: It does? That's kind of weird o.0**

**firestar001: The quadrotors have a minor appearance in this chapter...but they'll have a bigger role later!**

**Lily: Enthusiastic as always :)**

**Jarad100: Don't worry, they're still alive :)**

**anon: Actually, I play CoD on the Wii (Shocking, I know). **

**SLY 123: Hmm...that sounds interesting! **

Chapter 4

**Somewhere beside Route 110, Los Angeles**

**June 19, 2025, 9:42:11**

Soap opened his eyes to find himself staring at a roof of cold steel.

Where am I? This looks nothing like our barrack, he thought.

Then a flood of memories washed into his brain. Dr. Maxis. Harper. Mason. 2025. The G-20. Hostile drones. And the car crash.

The car crash! Soap planted his hand on the van's floor and propped himself up. He felt something wet on his forehead. He touched the wet spot, and his hand came back smeared with blood. His ribs hurt like hell, and even breathing bought sharp jabs of pain. Men lay around him, bloodied as well.

A groan made Soap swivel his head to the left. Dempsey was also regaining consciousness, his foul mouth spewing curses as he did.

"Arrgh. I'm going to find that goddamn robot and make the bastard pay for my headache!"

"Don't waste your breath. I think the robot was what we crashed into," Soap replied. "Come on, we need to check on how everyone else is doing."

The van had contained thirteen people before it had crashed: Task Force 935, four other Special Forces soldiers, and the driver. The latter had taken the brunt of the collision, being at the front of the vehicle, and had been killed instantly. Two Special Forces soldiers had collided head-first with the metal walls of the van, and were also dead. Everyone else had been badly bashed around, but was thankfully still alive. But they weren't going to go anywhere fast. Soap suspected broken limbs on four of the ten remaining living people. It was a miracle that the number wasn't higher.

One by one, the others came back from the dark void that was unconsciousness. Among the groans of pain were swears at their newfound ailments. One Special Forces soldier and Nikolai the Drunk each had a broken leg, and Price and Richtofen each had a broken arm. Bruises, scrapes, and blood were on everyone in the wrecked vehicle.

"Oh, this isn't bloody good," Price said, wincing as he gingerly moved his broken arm.

"If only I had zhose universal healing syringes!" Richtofen muttered angrily. "I vas looking forward to make fresh meat vith zhis toy!" He held up an XM8 that was on the floor.

Seeing the futuristic gun brought up an urgent point. "How the hell are we going to get to the Memorial Coliseum?" one of the Special Forces soldiers asked. "Our van is wrecked. Half of us can't even outrun a turtle. And there are still Annihilators and CLAWs out there!"

"Let's get out there then, instead of dishonorably hiding in here," Takeo retorted, and opened the door.

The CLAW had been lying in wait in some trees beside a small parking lot. The group exited into the said lot. To their right and infront of them were various houses and buildings, while the highway that they had veered off of bordered their left. There were no signs of any drones or robots nearby.

A noise behind them caused the bedraggled group to turn around. It took them around twenty seconds to pin down the source of the noise. It was the dashboard radio that was somehow still in working order despite the crash. A voice came from the piece of equipment.

"Overlord to Vera 1-4, do you read me? Repeat, Overlord to Vera 1-4, do you read me?"

Dempsey was the closest, and the Marine reached through the smashed glass of the driver's window to pull out the mouthpiece. "Hell yeah we goddamn read you! Send us a chopper or some fancy thing like that to get us out of this hellhole already!" The others winced as he gave this hotheaded reply to Overlord.

The man on the other end of the line coughed, collected himself for a few seconds, and spoke. "Actually, there's a group of friendlies at St. Vincent Catholic Church. They're 450 meters south of your estimated location. They'll assist you once you link up with them."

"St. Vincent Catholic Church? What the hell is that?" Dempsey demanded. But Overlord had already signed off.

"Gimme a second," the less-injured Special Forces soldier said. "I'll look it up on my TacPad." The young man consulted an electronic screen (surprisingly unscathed) on his wrist that Task Force 935 had just noticed.

After a few taps on the TacPad, the soldier announced, "Okay, I've got the directions. We're good to go."

"Really? All from that…what did you call it? TacPad?" Nikolai the Pilot gestured at the device.

"You bet I did. This thing is like a GPS and Google Maps rolled together."

"Let's go then!"

The group began their trek to the church, with the Special Forces soldier who had looked up the directions taking the lead. Nikolai the Pilot and Yuri supported the other, limping Special Forces soldier, while Takeo and Dempsey supported Nikolai the Drunk. Price and Richtofen could hold and shoot their XM8s, but they would have a tough time reloading and controlling the gun's recoil. Only the first Special Forces soldier and Soap could shoot normally.

The journey was (thankfully) uneventful, but took much longer than it would have due to the group's injuries. But they still got to the church in one piece. The house of worship still managed to retain a sense of elegance, even though it was plopped down in a battle-torn city. A large white dome was the most striking feature, decorated by artwork.

The group half-limped, half-walked to the entrance. As soon as they got to it, the door swung open and a nervous soldier peeked out.

"You guys from the van?"

The group nodded.

"Good. Come on, get inside."

The soldier turned around and the group followed him. The four men with broken limbs were taken away for rudimentary treatment once they were inside. Nikolai the Drunk and Richtofen put up quite a fuss, though: the former insisted that he just needed a few bottles of vodka and he would be good, while the latter wanted to stick around and continue "playing" with the futuristic "toys" around him. Both were eventually hauled off.

"So, do you guys have a way out of here or something?" Yuri asked the commanding officer of the newly-met squad.

"We do. Three Humvees, each with AA defenses. We're just going to stay in this church for a bit so that we can give your buddies –" the man jerked a thumb in the direction that Price, Richtofen, Nikolai the Drunk and the second Special Forces soldier had been taken "– a little fix-up. Then we'll –"

He broke off as gunfire rattled outside. Something that sounded urgent came through his earpiece. The commanding officer listened for a few seconds, swore, and turned back to the group.

"One of my men just told me that he's spotted some CLAWs moving in on us. He estimates nine of them."

"Great," the first Special Forces soldier groaned. "What are we going to do now?"

The commanding officer pointed at Soap and Dempsey. "You two, see if you can get to the summit of this church's tower. We have two armor-piercing sniper rifles set up there."

"What happened to the lads using them?" Soap asked.

"They were spotted and killed," the officer said grimly. "Try not to do the same. Everyone else, outside! We need suppressing fire for our two soon-to-be snipers here."

Soap and Dempsey found the stairs spiralling upwards to the top of the tower and began the climb. Soap could only relate the ascent to the gruelling drills and training he had to endure when he was a fresh recruit in the SAS. When the two men finally arrived at the summit, they were flat out of breath. But there was a job to be done.

First, they dragged the bodies of the two former snipers from their post. The CLAW had done a grisly job, with one man shot in the head, and the other hit multiple times in the upper torso. Once the two bodies were out of the way, Soap and Dempsey took hold of a sniper rifle. And that was where things got interesting.

"Whoa! This scope is badass!" Dempsey exclaimed. Soap took a look through his, and found that he could spot the CLAWs _through their cover_. Nothing could hide from him!

"Too bad Richtofen wasn't here. He would love this," Dempsey remarked as he prepared to snipe. "On second thought, I take that back."

The sniper rifle was semi-automatic, loaded with rounds that were designed to penetrate anything in its path. Soap selected a CLAW that was behind a car, held his breath, and fired.

The round slammed into the car's roof, smashed one of its windows, and pierced the electronic heart of the CLAW. The robot immediately seized up and collapsed to the ground. Dempsey also did the same to another CLAW, and grinned. "Now _this _is what I call kicking ass!"

The other CLAWs had noticed something was wrong, but thanks to the sniper rifles' semi-automatic capabilities, they were quickly taken down as well. Once the last CLAW had hit the pavement, Soap and Dempsey climbed back down the stairs (which was much easier than climbing up, thank goodness), and rejoined their comrades, who were beside the Humvees. The four men that had been given rudimentary treatment for their broken limbs were there as well. So were six small hovering machines, which Dempsey immediately demanded an explanation for.

"They are called quadrotors," Takeo said. "Each of them have a machine gun. Small and deadly, like me."

"They're here to protect us," the commanding officer added. "We're finally going to get to the Memorial Coliseum."

Everyone piled into the Humvees, and they began their drive to safety, with the quadrotors buzzing beside them. Soldiers were also ecstatically reporting that most of the drones in the city had been taken out, and the immediate threat was neutralized. In addition, all nineteen G-20 leaders that had come to L.A. were unharmed and out of the battlezone. But there was a gloomy question that overshadowed all the good news.

What the hell had happened with the drones in the first place?


	5. The Deception

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Chapter 5

On the evening of June 19, 2025, millions of people across the US sat glued to their television screens, watching the daily news. For some, it was their first time watching the news. For others, it was part of their daily routine. But regardless, they all knew that something dreadful had happened in Los Angeles, and expected the reporters and anchors to give them the story. They weren't disappointed.

"…an unexpected incident in Los Angeles today…"

"…the target was most likely the G-20…"

"…casualties estimated in the hundreds of thousands…"

"…few details have been released by the army…"

"…a day of mourning for all of America…"

The next day, it was the turn of the newspapers to report the story. The headline of the New York Times for June 20, 2025, was "Attack or Accident? New questions raised about the safety of drones after yesterday's devastating incident in Los Angeles." Behind these words was a picture of a crashed Annihilator drone sticking out of a house. Inside, the various articles were essentially a recap of what the news stations had reported the previous night – but with one crucial development: neither the Pentagon nor Washington was confirming that the incident had been caused by a malfunction or hijack.

But they already knew the answer. The only reason that they hadn't told the public was because they didn't know what to do next. And as Americans sipped their morning coffee or made their commute to work, the heads of the American armed forces were holding a conference in the Pentagon.

"We've traced the connection to a location in China," Overlord said grimly. "On the surface, it looks like the Chinese are responsible for this attack."

"Hold on. What do you mean by 'on the surface'?" a general asked.

"It just seems too obvious to be real. The Chinese have almost caught up to us in terms of technology. When we traced the connection, we came across absolutely no firewalls or security of any kind. The connection wasn't even bounced, for heaven's sake!" Bouncing was when a computer connection was sent, or "bounced", around the world, therefore making it harder to trace it to its original location.

"So what do you propose? If this really is an attack by China, we need to act fast!" another general declared.

"I was thinking about a black op," Overlord said, and the room fell silent. "Just an expeditionary force to the location we've traced the connection to." He paused briefly. "I don't want to go into another war, and I'm sure none of you do either. So it's vital that we don't make any rash decisions."

"When will this black op you propose of occur?" the first general asked.

"If I can get the president to authorize it soon, hopefully within five days." He paused again. "And I know some of the best men for the job…"

**Wuyi Mountains, China**

**June 22, 2025, 23:01:34**

Price heaved himself out the door and began his fall toward the ground.

After escaping Los Angeles, he and the rest of Task Force 935 had been approached by Overlord himself (who somehow found out that they were back) and asked if they were willing to participate in the black op. Naturally, they had agreed, and were promptly whisked away to the Pentagon for a debriefing with the other participants. To their surprise, Harper and Mason were among the faces.

"Hey! Glad to see you guys made it," Mason said cheerfully.

Harper seemed a little embarrassed. "Sorry for leaving you all in the van. We would have gone back for you if it weren't for the G-20…"

"Don't worry about it, mate. We understand," Soap reassured him.

"Gentlemen!" Overlord greeted as he strode into the room. The assembled soldiers saluted and sat down. Overlord took his place behind a podium, looked at his audience, and began talking.

"As you all know, yesterday there was an incident in Los Angeles with our drones. Some of you might have been there yourselves. Well, I am here to announce that we have evidence showing that the drones were hijacked from a location in China." He stopped as the soldiers exploded in chatter, talking furiously among themselves and throwing questions at Overlord.

"Quiet down, please!" Reluctantly, everyone winded down their conversations, allowing Overlord to continue. "Thank you."

"Now, while our drones were hijacked from China, the situation is still confusing. When we traced the connection, the entire process was ridiculously easy. Too easy. So, the president and I have decided to launch a black op to investigate the connection's original location."

Overlord stepped aside and a screen behind him came to life. It displayed an aerial view of some buildings in a mountain range. Trees and other plants stretched around the complex, creating a carpet of green.

"What you are seeing now is a picture of where we believe the drones were hijacked. It is in the Wuyi Mountains, in the southeast of China." Overlord turned and faced the soldiers. "That is where you men will be headed."

And he was right. The soldiers, twenty-four in all, boarded a plane the next day. After a long journey over the Pacific, they arrived in an air base in Taiwan (it was all hush-hush, of course). They were promptly given their equipment, boarded two US helicopters, and lifted off for the Wuyi Mountain complex. The plan was to use the cover of night to parachute in undetected, gather as much intel as they could while keeping casualties on both sides to a minimum, and then be extracted by the helicopters.

Now, Price took a moment to relax as the thrill of freefalling took hold of him. He then deployed his parachute, which was matte black for camouflage. Looking around, he could see his fellow soldiers drifting through the air, suspended beneath their canopies of silk.

With a grunt, Price touched down. He ran for a few seconds in order to use up his momentum, and once he had come to a standstill, detached himself from his parachute. Grabbing the XM8 assault rifle he had been issued and activating his night vision goggles, he began his journey to Task Force 935's assigned rendezvous spot, which was the south of the complex.

Thankfully, everyone had touched down without a hitch, and was standing around waiting for Price when he got there.

"Your age is beginning to show, old man," Soap joked. "Better not slow us down."

"Ah, bugger off," Price retorted with a smile. "Any hostiles in sight?"

"No," Yuri said. "This entire place seems empty. No guards, no lights, nothing. There isn't even a fence."

The Russian was right. A possible military complex would surely have security of some kind. But not this complex. The black op soldiers could waltz right in without any trouble. Or so it seemed.

"The honorable thing to do is to stay alert," Takeo advised. "I shall not be disgraced by getting caught by surprise."

"He's right," Nikolai the Pilot agreed. "We should still stay on our guard."

So, the eight men advanced towards the mysterious complex, guns at the ready. In total, there were three teams of eight approaching their target: Task Force 935 from the south, Harper and Mason's team from the west, and the third team from the east. No gunfire had broken out yet, which made the situation even weirder.

Task Force 935 reached the complex without any problems, and they signalled to the other two teams. They would investigate the main building while the other two teams would stand guard. Harper and the leader of Team 3 signalled back to show that they understood, and Task Force 935 entered the building.

It was pretty anticlimactic. They were expecting enemy guards to come out and try and take them out. But the silence continued. The walls were cracked and peeling, and half of the overhead lights were smashed. It was completely derelict.

However, in one of the rooms, Nikolai the Drunk found something interesting. Reading off a piece of paper, he asked his squadmates, "Hey, who's Menendez?"

"Men who?" Dempsey said. "Where did you get that from?"

The vodka lover held up the paper he had found. "It says on here. Menendez. I guess that's a name."

Price got on his earpiece. "Harper, does the name Menendez ring a bell?"

A sharp intake of breath answered Price. "Menendez. Yes, I know him. He's a Nicaraguan militant. But I have no idea how he's involved with this."

"We'll ask Overlord when we get back," Price replied. "Anyway, this is all we found, so we're pulling out." He gave a small smile as he signed off. "And we did all this without a single shot fired!"

But unknown to Price and the other US soldiers, all that was about to change. You see, the Chinese army had also taken notice of the complex, which was actually an old training facility of theirs. It had been shut down and abandoned in 2014, but they still kept tabs on it. And when they detected activity on June 18, 2025, they had prepared a strike force not unlike the American black op. It was only bad luck that the two forces had chosen the exact same time and day to investigate the complex.

And a third party that no one knew about was about to turn them against each other. Two men, dressed entirely in black, had been waiting on the roof of one of the complex's buildings. Each of them took out an RPG, one for each strike force. They nodded to each other, and began counting down from five in unison. The timing was critical – the two RPGs absolutely had to be fired at the exact same time.

They reached zero, and simultaneously fired. One round exploded right in front of the Americans. The other detonated in front of the Chinese. Both parties snapped into battle stances, shouting out orders.

Takeo was the first to react to the shouts of Chinese that he could faintly hear. "Why…I can hear the dishonorable shouts of the Chinese!" He still thought of China as disgraceful, which was understandable, as he was originally from WWII when Japan and China were fighting a bitter and bloody war.

The two men on the rooftop fired their RPGs again at the same time. They were aiming for people this time around, and succeeded. Richtofen heard a scream as a poor soldier was turned from a living being into raw hunks of meat.

"Zhat doesn't sound good."

An RPG round had also taken out some Chinese soldiers too. When the two parties came into view of each other (which didn't take very along), each immediately assumed the other was responsible for their comrades' deaths.

"Oh shit!" Harper's voice came over Task Force 935's earpieces. "The Chinese army's shown up! We have to get out of here now!"

"Copy that, mate," Price said. "Come on lads, let's go!"

They emerged from the building to find Teams 2 and 3 popping out from cover, firing at the Chinese troops that had suddenly showed up. Once they saw Task Force 935, they began their retreat to the extraction point. A soldier went down with a wet gurgle, and another fell with a groan. The black op was quickly turning into a nightmare. The other US soldiers were laying down suppressing fire as they retreated.

"Go! Run for it!" Harper shouted. The Chinese troops were closing in, outnumbering the Americans two to one. But the larger number of troops gave them the disadvantage when it came to speed. The US soldiers managed to outrun the Chinese troops, and were relieved beyond comprehension when they saw the two helicopters waiting for them at the extraction point. Flinging themselves aboard, they lifted off and began the flight back to Taiwan.

"I am never ever doing that again!" a soldier exclaimed. "Next time they want me to go right into a hostile country, I'll turn over and go back to sleep!"

"At least we got a name," Soap said. "So you can't say this was a total failure."

"Yeah, right," the soldier retorted. "Nothing's going to happen after we just shot and killed several Chinese soldiers. Nope, we totally won't go to war!"

That remark made everyone fall silent. Could it be true that they had accidentally started a war? No, we didn't start it, Price mentally said. The Chinese were the ones that blew some of our boys up first.

The two third party men had watched the entire episode from their hiding spot. As the Chinese troops tended to their wounded, they congratulated themselves on a job well done. Menendez would be proud.


	6. Captured

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Chapter 6

When the survivors of the disastrous black op in China got back to American soil, they were immediately sent back to the Pentagon where Overlord was waiting for them. The general commander was usually calm and collected, but for the first time the soldiers saw him in an angry mood.

"What the hell happened out there?" the man growled out. "It was supposed to be a stealth mission, not a goddamn full-fledged battle!"

"It wasn't our fault –" one soldier began, but was cut off by Overlord's steely glare. He was actually pretty scary when mad. "The Chinese started it," the soldier finished weakly.

"He's right," Nikolai the Pilot vouched. "Somehow the Chinese got wind of us and sent in some of their men. They were the ones that fired the first shot, not us."

Overlord took deep breaths until his anger subsided. "I'm sorry for barking at you all like that," he apologized. "But the truth is, our relations with China are as good as dead after the black op. War's threatening to break out any day now. And I'm taking much of the blame for thinking up the black op in the first place."

Price could sympathize with Overlord. He, Soap and Nikolai the Pilot had been disavowed and wanted by everyone in the militaries of the US and its allies, save for a couple close friends like Sandman and MacMillan.

"But enough of my personal problems," Overlord continued. "Did you men find any intel?"

"We did, actually. We found evidence that Menendez is involved somehow," Harper informed him.

"Menendez? That's a surprise," Overlord said. "It's also perfect timing, as we've just tracked down his location to an island in Lake Nicaragua."

"So…are you saying that we're going to investigate him now?" Nikolai the Drunk groaned. "I was looking forward to a few glorious days of drinking." Some other soldiers groaned with him, but at the prospect of going back into the battlefield so soon instead of missing out on alcohol.

"We have to do it. Any intel, even the tiniest bit, could calm down both sides," Overlord said. "I just hope that we have enough time. Oh yeah, try not to blow up the entire country this time."

**Lake Nicaragua, Nicaragua**

**June 25, 2025, 12:45:00**

Takeo wiped some sea water off his face. Task Force 935 and the other black op soldiers were on three motorboats, slicing through the water of Lake Nicaragua. Their destination was the island of Ometepe, which consisted of two volcanoes that reminded the Japanese man of Mount Fuji. In fact, the island was essentially two blobs, each with a volcano, with a land bridge between. Menendez's stronghold was on the larger blob of the two.

This time around, everyone but Soap and Dempsey had been armed with M8A1s, descendant of the familiar M4A1 from Task Force 935's original time period. The latter two Task Force 935 members were instead armed with the sniper rifles they had used in the church in Los Angeles (the rifles were called Storm PSRs). The objective was to find Menendez and bring him back to the US for a little "talk". Like in China, the boats would wait at the shore while the soldiers did their stuff.

"Shoreline is 1500 meters away," Harper said. "Mason, what security do you see?"

Mason put away the powerful binoculars he had been looking through. "I counted ten guards around the perimeter, as well as two machine guns on the roof."

"Those MGs are going to be our priority," Harper declared. "Soap and Dempsey, you two take care of him. The rest of us will advance and take out those ten guards."

The boats slowed down and gently bumped up onto the shoreline. Immediately, everyone flopped onto the ground as the two snipers prepared to kill the machine gunner.

"I'll take left, you take right," Soap ordered.

"Yessir, Mr. Bossman," Dempsey replied. Soap couldn't figure out if the Marine was mocking him or not.

Two Storm PSR rounds embedded themselves into the machine gunners, who fell without a sound. "Good job, good job," Price congratulated.

However, one of the machine gunners gave away their presence even when he was dead. As he was falling backwards, his finger had pulled back on the gun's trigger. The result was a two second burst of fire that drew the attention of the guards to the machine gun posts. Once they saw that the two gunners were missing, the alarm was raised.

A helicopter roared into the air, lean, sleek, and deadly. On the ground, guards poured out of the stronghold, shouting in Spanish. Task Force 935 and their comrades had come unprepared once again.

"Oh, come on!" a soldier to the left shouted at the helicopter. "Give us a break, will you?"

The hostile vehicle's thermal imaging pinpointed the US soldiers. Its machine gun chattered, and dirt kicked up around them. The soldier who had complained just seconds ago fell down, followed by four more men. The black op had failed after a mere two shots.

"Back to the boats!" Price shouted. "We're good as dead if we stay here any longer!"

Sadly, it was at this moment that the helicopter fired its missiles. The pilot had guessed that the US soldiers had arrived on the island on boats, and had directed the explosives at the shoreline. His guess was right. The boats disintegrated into steel and fiberglass.

Menendez's men caught up with the US soldiers. Moving quickly and efficiently, the Nicaraguans surrounded the Americans. Having no choice, the black op soldiers threw down their guns in disgust and anger, and surrendered. Even Dempsey's defiant attitude was quashed by the number of hostile men.

"You come," one man said in simple English. He gestured with his gun toward Menendez's stronghold. The Americans grudgingly trudged toward the building.

The anger, fear, and bitter taste of failure had dampened their instincts. So when some of Menendez's men hit them over the heads with the butt of their guns, it came as a complete surprise. They slumped to the ground, out cold.

**Menendez's Stronghold, Nicaragua**

**Unknown Time**

Yuri jerked awake with a throbbing pain on the back of his head. Groaning, he sat up and took in his surroundings. It looked like he and his fellow soldiers had been tossed into a basement of some sorts, no doubt meant to be a prison. A few dingy light bulbs gave off a weak glow. There were no windows, and a locked iron door was the only entrance and exit. The ex-Spetsnaz man looked at his wrist for the time, only to find that his watch had been taken.

Several minutes later, everyone had regained consciousness. It was then that the door swung open. Standing there was a man flanked by four guards. The man had dark brown hair and appeared to be in his late fifties. Harper supplied the name.

"Raul Menendez."

Menendez smiled. "Yes, that's correct."

"Are you the one that hijacked our drones and attacked Los Angeles?" Mason spoke up. "Huh? Are you?"

"Mmm, I was involved, yes. But the real culprit is one that I'm sure will surprise you all." The Nicaraguan stepped aside, and someone else walked in. Everyone's jaws dropped. Everyone, that is, expect Task Force 935. This time, Richtofen supplied the name.

"Ah, Samantha! Vhat a surprise!"

"It vill be zhe last surprise of your evil life," Samantha spat back.

"Wha – who –" Mason spluttered, flabbergasted that a young girl was the one responsible for the deaths of hundreds of thousands of American civilians and soldiers.

"Yes, you heard me right." Menendez had a smug look on his face. "Go on, Samantha, tell them."

"I did zhis all because of you, Richtofen," Samantha began. If looks could kill, Richtofen would be very much dead. "All because you took Daddy away, you evil person!"

"Yeah, sorry to tell you this, but your daddy was the one that sent us here to stop you," Nikolai the Drunk said.

"I know. And zhat is now vhy I am going to make America and China destroy each other. Yes, I was zhe one zhat took control of zhe drones in Los Angeles. Technology has evolved quite a bit since your time period, and I took advantage of it. And do you remember zhe incident in China?" The US soldiers cringed. "Vell, zhat vas a deception. Ve fired zhe rockets to trick you and zhe Chinese into shooting each other. And it vorked perfectly! Now both countries are at each other's throats!"

"Oh you little –" Dempsey began, but was silenced by a guard swinging his gun menacingly toward him.

"Menendez here vas very keen to help me. He, too, vishes to see both countries and possibly zhe vorld destroy each other. Vell, time has almost run out for all of you. Ve shall trigger another incident. And zhat should be enough for var to break out."

"But the entire world! What did they do to you?" a soldier asked.

"Nothing. But, someone must pay zhe price for all zhe people zhat betrayed and hurted me, no?" It was evident that Dr. Maxis halting his support for her had sent Samantha over the edge.

"Too bad all of you decided to try and break into here. Now, death awaits you." She then turned to Richtofen and grinned savagely. "But Richtofen, you vill get a very special treat zhat's just for you!"

Samantha turned to leave. "Kill zhem," she said. "But make sure our German friend here gets his treat." She left, accompanied by two of the guards.

Menendez hanged back a little while longer. "She's pretty amazing. I laughed her off initially, of course. Then she demonstrated her powers and did what she did in Los Angeles. Incredible." He then left with the other two guards. The door slammed shut.


	7. Torturing the Torturer

**Hey! Yeah, you! The person reading this! Well, thanks to some suggestion made by a reader, now I have to reply to these reviews. Thanks a lot - as if hating Richtofen and killing freakbags weren't enough.**

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**Firestar001: I kicked ass with that gun in Chapter 4! Ya know, in that church?**

**anon: That's right, I'm badass!**

**SLY 123: *Sure thing.* Hey, no, I'm replying! **

Chapter 7

**Menendez's Stronghold, Nicaragua**

**Unknown Time**

After what the captive US soldiers guessed was five minutes, the door to their prison opened again. Menendez was there again, along with four of his guards. They hustled into the dim space and grabbed Richtofen.

"You're about to get your treat," Menendez said with an evil grin.

The Nazi doctor was forced to his feet and half-pushed, half-guided out into a hallway. He was then pushed through another door into a dark room. Then Menendez flicked a switch, and an overhead light came on, revealing a chair and a table with a tray on top in the middle of the room. The chair seemed to be Richtofen's destination. He glanced at the tray, and found that it contained an assortment of blades. It was then that he understood what his "treat" was.

"Ahh…you're going to torture me, is that correct?"

"You got it. I'm going to give you as much pain as possible before you either pass out or die," Menendez confirmed.

Three of the guards stayed outside the door, while the fourth stayed in the torture room with Richtofen and Menendez. The latter tied the former's wrists and ankles to the chair, immobilizing him.

Menendez selected one of the blades from the tray. His choice was a scalpel, small and razor-sharp.

"Hmm…I think we'll start with a long, slow cut down the arms." However, he whirled around to face Richtofen as the German gave a snort of laughter.

"What? You think this is funny?" the Nicaraguan spat.

"Ja. You said you vanted to give me as much pain as possible. For zhat, you must keep me alive for as long as possible." He jerked his head at the scalpel Menendez was holding. "If you use zhat scalpel to cut parallel to my arms, you vill no doubt severely rupture a blood vessel. The result vill be me gushing blood all over zhe place, vhich vill kill me quite quickly. Not to mention staining the wonderful floor you have in here."

Menendez was at a loss of words. Here he was, holding a razor-sharp scalpel, clearly holding the upper hand. But instead of buckling and crying for mercy, this fellow was giving out tips on how to prolong his torture! It defied any sort of logic Menendez knew. And calling the gray concrete floor wonderful! The guy was clearly mad.

The truth was, Richtofen could tell straight off the bat that Menendez was what he called a "primitive" torturer – meaning that his torture style consisted of actions that certainly caused a lot of pain but were also life threatening. An experienced torturer (such as Richtofen) would tell you that you should prolong the victim's life for as long as possible. The Nazi decided to use Menendez's inexperience against him, as well as playing mind games with him.

Menendez quickly attempted to conceal his discomfort and confusion. "Shut up! I'm the torturer here, not you!"

"I'm sure zhat I've tortured much more people zhan you," Richtofen shot back. "In fact, I wrote a book on it for my fellow…information extractors."

"Be quiet, or I'll shove this scalpel into your head!"

"You can't do zhat. I bet Samantha told you not to kill me until zhe last minute, and you vouldn't vant to get on her bad side."

Menendez could feel the situation spiralling out of control. He had definitely not expected this task to be this hard or frustrating. But he then had the perfect retort pop into his head.

"Oh, I agree. I wouldn't want to get on her bad side. But she won't know that I killed you instead of torturing you. I could just plunge this scalpel into your heart, make some cuts after, and she would never know."

Richtofen smirked. "I'm pretty sure zhat she vould notice a chest vound on me."

Menendez deflated. His ace in the hole, gone. To hell with this, he thought. This guy is so goddamn annoying that I don't care what Samantha thinks.

Menendez raised the scalpel, ready to deliver the fatal stab, when an explosion shook the room.

* * *

Meanwhile, in the other room, the captive US soldiers were also rocked by the explosion.

"Whoa! What the hell's going on?" Dempsey said.

"Maybe we're getting rescued!" a soldier said eagerly. "For all we know, a day has gone by since we got knocked out and another team is bailing us out!"

Shouts in Spanish and the rattle of gunfire certainly provided a strong argument for the soldier's theory. A closer explosion made them duck instinctively as dislodged dust rained down on them. Then the ceiling creaked and sagged, causing Price to shout out, "Run to the walls! The ceiling's caving in!"

His fellow soldiers followed his order, and just in time too. The ceiling met the floor with a loud crash and thump. Coughing and waving the haze of dust away, the captives found themselves looking at two quadrotors. Their four rotors whirred merrily, and the fellow controlling them made the robots waggle from side to side as a greeting. The black op soldiers wearily waved a hand back.

One quadrotor turned around and flew up through the new hole in the ceiling, no doubt supposed to show Task Force 935 and their fellow soldiers the way out. The other quadrotor was facing the door that was going to burst open and let in a ton of Menendez's men at any moment now.

"Come on! What are we waiting for?" Harper was already starting up the ramp created by the caved-in portion of the ceiling, gesturing for his comrades to do the same. The quadrotor they were supposed to follow was waiting for them at the top. The group went up the ramp and was bathed in sunlight. After being stuck in the dim artificial glow of their room's lightbulbs, the group had to shield their eyes until their pupils adjusted.

There was a smashed window that had granted access to the quadrotors, but was too small for anyone to squeeze through. So, the black op soldiers had to navigate through the stronghold until they came across a door. They could hear the second quadrotor's machine gun chattering away below them.

The first quadrotor took point (hardly surprising, as the recently-freed soldiers were completely unarmed). It quickly took down two hostiles before leading its flock of men into the hallway. The second quadrotor had also joined them, and covered the rear. Any enemies that came into view were targeted and killed by the robots, whose guns were then scavenged by the black op soldiers. By doing this, the group of man and machine kept the bullets flying, all the meanwhile getting closer to freedom.

* * *

Richtofen, meanwhile, was in a much different situation. As soon as the first explosion was heard, he was hustled out of the torture room and pushed up the stairs to ground level. He guessed that Menendez wanted to use him as a bargaining chip with the US soldiers that had come to rescue him and his comrades.

"Move it!" Menendez growled. The Nicaraguan had kept the scalpel with him, and was ready to stab Richtofen in the back with it if the German slowed down even a bit. As well, three guards had their guns pointed at Richtofen, ready to shoot.

Suddenly, a second explosion hurled all five men to the ground. When the dust had settled, Richtofen saw that the three guards had been knocked unconscious by the blast, and Menendez himself was almost in the same state. A massive hole had been created in the wall. The Nazi turned to leave through the new opening. Then he realized that he had an opportunity that he just couldn't pass up.

"You know, I zhink I'll show you vhy you never cut down a person's arm," Richtofen said with an evil grin. He bent down and took the scalpel that Menendez had dropped onto the floor. Letting years of experience take hold of him, he extended one of Menendez's arms and slashed down the limb. His actions were immediately rewarded with a gush of blood. Menendez's eyes widened as he watched his life drain away before him.

"You see? Never question zhe Doctor!" Richtofen gave one last mad grin at the Nicaraguan before exiting through the hole in the wall. He saw that, yes, it was American soldiers that were attacking the stronghold. He raised and waved his hands to show that he was unarmed and friendly, but still cautiously proceeded toward the rescuers all the same. If Dempsey was any indication, Americans were very trigger-happy.

**The Pentagon, Arlington County, Virginia**

**June 26, 2025, 08:35:54**

"Thanks for bailing us out," Soap said to Overlord.

The latter nodded. "When we lost contact with you guys, that was the last straw. I got together another group of men and sent them in there guns blazing."

Menendez and his cronies had all been either killed or captured, and the rescued soldiers had informed the brass about Samantha and Menendez's plan to trigger one final incident that would cause war.

"The rescue team searched Menendez's stronghold and came up with intel on this plan for war," Overlord continued. "It looks like the plan was to hijack some Chinese drones and attack Beijing with them from Washington so that it would look like we did it. Then tensions would boil over and war would break out, just like they wanted."

"Have we stopped them?" Takeo inquired.

"The intel says that they'll hijack the drones tomorrow," Overlord replied. "We've decided to send in our strike force tonight. Don't worry, you men aren't part of it," he reassured. "Just rest up and get some strength back. By tonight this entire situation should be solved."

"Good. Finally, some time for vodka!" Nikolai the Drunk said enthusiastically.

**Now, I'm going to go drink vodka with Nikolai the Drunk. I'll be back.**


	8. Warehouse 13

**One thing Nikolai the Drunk's got going - vodka sure is good as hell. Oh, sorry author, I'm supposed to be replying?**

**Spyash2: I remember being in that story. Ugh, jumping into that damn box was a mistake.**

**turret: From what the author tells me, he got that good stuff from the Call of Duty wiki, Gameinformer, and YouTube. Which I have no damn clue what he's talking about.**

**Coolguyforever: He would be reviewing, only that he's still wasted from last night. Hell, he's wasted from every night. **

**Lily: Takeo's puke was gross...but that's what he gets for eating raw fish.**

**SLY 123: The author says thanks.**

**Guest: Trust me, Richtofen (that goddamn bastard) is more torturous than anyone...**

***This chapter features an old friend...somone that was pretty badass in MW3!***

**More badass than me?**

***Er...not quite...***

**Good. Right answer, author.**

Chapter 8

**Washington, DC**

**June 26, 2025, 23:13:37**

"All teams, report in."

"Sierra 0-1, in position."

"Oscar 0-1, in position."

"Foxtrot 0-1, in position."

Staff Sergeant Frost, otherwise known as Foxtrot 0-1, was part of the strike force sent to raid the suspected location where terrorists would hijack China's drones, triggering the final incident needed for war. After the Owl Mountains incident, Frost and the rest of Team Metal had been promoted and in the following years, rose up the ranks. Sandman retired from military service in 2021, and Truck, Grinch, and Frost each got their own Delta teams to command. The three were almost at the end of their military careers themselves.

Frost's squad consisted of himself (Foxtrot 0-1), Gator (Foxtrot 0-2), Spectre (Foxtrot 0-3), and Flux (Foxtrot 0-4). They and the other teams were to break into the building, which was an abandoned warehouse, and try to capture any terrorists. If they decided to shoot at them, then the teams would have no choice but to return fire. Frost was betting on the latter.

"Breaching now," Flux said as he slapped a breaching charge onto the door. Instead of trying to open or blast away the main doors of the warehouse, the teams would breach and enter through the smaller service door on the side. Frost checked his M8A1 assault rifle one last time before the wooden door was transformed into toothpicks and the three teams, twelve men in all, flooded into the warehouse, shouting "American Special Forces! American Special Forces! Get your hands in the air now!"

The order wasn't followed, evidently shown by a hail of bullets fired at the direction of the teams. The twelve men ducked into cover behind various crates and returned fire. Frost's guess was right – they were going to have to kill these guys.

Trouble was, the battle was little more than the two sides firing wildly at each other and hoping for the best. The warehouse had crates and such on each side, providing cover. But there was absolutely nothing in the middle – just a wide, open space. No one was stupid enough to blindly charge through that area, so everyone stayed put on their side and continued blasting away.

Spectre tossed a grenade, which fell short and exploded uselessly thirty feet away from the nearest hostile. The soldier shook his head in disgust and turned to Frost. "This is dumb. At this rate both we and those terrorists or whatever are going to run out of ammo without landing a single hit. Then what? We have a knife fight?"

"We should have brought an RPG or something," Gator said glumly as he reloaded.

Then shouts of "Stop! Stop! We surrender!" grabbed their attention. The terrorists had thrown down their guns and were coming out of cover with their hands in the air. The Delta teams held their fire. Flux counted the number of terrorists and relayed the result to his comrades: seven terrorists in all.

"Walk slowly over here," Frost shouted to the hostiles. "Keep those hands raised." They followed his order, and the teams cautiously emerged from cover, weapons trained on the slowly approaching group. A sudden buzz that sounded electrical cut through the air just then, making the US soldiers jump. But the terrorists were still unarmed and still had frightened looks on their faces, so they relaxed.

Just when Frost thought it was safe, a wet splurt and a groan told him otherwise. A member of Team Oscar had been hit and was lying on the ground, blood seeping out of him. At the same time, the group of hostiles that had "surrendered" whipped out Chicom QCBs and began firing at the now-exposed Delta operatives.

The Chicom QCB was the upgraded descendant of the FMG9. The FMG9 had been, and still was, used by law enforcement agencies, militaries, and criminal gangs alike, popular for its ability to fold into a small innocent-looking square and subsequently unfold with a press of a button. The Chicom QCB improved on the FMG9's original design by making it even more compact and increasing the magazine size. Because of the weapon's small size when folded, the terrorists had literally hidden them in their back pockets. Now the Delta operatives were paying the price.

"Dammit! Get in cover! Get in cover!" Frost shouted as he jumped behind a crate, firing his M8A1 at the terrorists. One of them went down, as well as another. It looked like they would have to deal with the seven "surrendered" terrorists – five, now that two of them had been taken out – and a sniper. Easier said than done, though – the US soldiers couldn't poke their heads out of cover without risk of the sniper blowing their heads off. And the five terrorists on the ground were laying down suppressing fire as they advanced, further preventing any counterattack.

However, a Team Sierra operative had had the luck to been given an MK48 light machine gun for the raid, and was taking full advantage of his weaponry. He had the gun jutting at an angle so that the barrel was pointing outward, but his body was still behind cover. Holding down the trigger, he poured lead at the direction of the terrorists from the safety of cover and was rewarded by twin cries of pain, followed by another. The other soldiers gave a soft sigh of relief – three more hostiles down.

A savage cry from the left was followed by one of the two remaining terrorists (excluding the sniper) appearing, with something round clutched in his hand. Caught off guard, the Delta teams could only watch as the hostile ran straight at Team Sierra…and proceeded to explode. Two operatives were flung back from the blast. The round thing must have been a grenade – and that meant the bastards were suicide bombing! But another thought struck Frost: where was the other terrorist that was part of the group that had "surrendered"?

His question was answered by the terrorist appearing on the right of Gator. Just like his buddy, he had a grenade in his hand. Gator instinctively shot the hostile, and he fell to the ground lifeless. The grenade rolled out of his now-limp hand, and Frost grabbed the explosive and hurled it with all his might. It exploded with only seconds to spare.

"Jesus!" Gator said. "I thought for sure we were dead."

"We're not done yet," Frost replied. "That sniper's still lurking around."

"How do we take it out?" Spectre asked. "Going out of cover is suicide. And we don't know where he is."

"I'll draw his fire," Frost volunteered. "Everyone else keeps an eye out for his position. Once we've found him, we shoot." He relayed the plan to the other teams.

"Okay. Here I go!" The staff sergeant dashed from the safety of Team Foxtrot's cover, running as fast as he could toward where Team Oscar was hiding. A spray of concrete just inches from his feet told him that he certainly was drawing the sniper's fire. Thankfully, he got back in cover just before the sniper fired again. Meanwhile, the Delta teams fired at the area where they had seen the telltale muzzle flash. Although they didn't know the precise location of the sniper, the sheer amount of bullets was enough to take him out. He fell from his perch, did a backflip in the air, and crashed into the concrete floor, beyond a doubt dead.

Cautiously, the US soldiers emerged from their hiding spots, half-expecting another terrorist to pop out and lob a grenade at them. But it seemed like they had killed all the hostiles. The nine surviving Delta operatives reached the other end of the warehouse without any further incident.

"Whoa! What do we have here?" A member of Team Oscar ran up towards a curious assembly of crates. The containers had been arranged so that they formed a giant enclosure, high enough to prevent anyone from seeing what lay in it. However, they could see some pieces of metal jutting above the height of the enclosure.

"That's weird," Frost said. "I'll radio Overlord to see if we can have these crates removed. There's got to be something important behind it."

**One hour later**

"This is a teleporter," Richtofen declared.

Task Force 935 had been put on AH-8 helicopters and flown to the warehouse in Washington DC, where the crates forming the enclosure had been moved out of the area. The process had uncovered a machine that no one had ever seen before – one that had an opening and a swastika painted on it. When Frost had radioed Overlord about the machine, Overlord had immediately given him and the others strict orders not to touch or tamper with it. He then said that eight experts would arrive at the warehouse soon.

Those experts turned out to be Task Force 935, and Frost recognized them straight off the bat. "Hey! It's good to see you guys again!"

"Well, if it isn't Frost!" Price shook the Delta operative's hand. "How's Sandman doing?"

"He retired from Delta in 2021," Frost informed him. "He's spending time with his family now."

"That's good to hear. Oh yeah, and before you ask, the story of how we went missing is a long one."

"You read my mind," Frost chuckled.

Task Force 935 had then walked over to the machine, where Richtofen had announced his conclusion. He had also given a brief explanation on how the teleporter functioned to the Delta soldiers.

"We heard a buzz while those terrorist bastards were walking toward us," a Team Sierra member said. "It could've been someone using this teleporter thing, now that I think about it."

"My zhoughts exactly," Richtofen agreed. "If you look here –" the Nazi pointed to a readout that currently displayed a series of numbers of letters "– zhe settings indicate zhat whoever used zhis teleporter last vent to zhe Moon."

"Samantha," Takeo said grimly. "She runs away, like the dishonorable thing she is!"

"Most likely," Richtofen nodded. "It looks like ve have no choice but to follow her."

The Delta soldiers were completely in the dark, except for Frost. "Samantha? But intel reported her eliminated…"

"Don't believe everything you read," Price said. "You know the attack in Los Angeles about a week and a half ago? Well, that was her."

"Damn," Frost muttered.

Price got on his earpiece. "Overlord, we have evidence that Samantha has teleported to the Moon. Request clearance to follow her."

"Copy that," Overlord said. "You're clear to go. We need to take her out for good."

Task Force 935 got into the teleporter, and the machine gave a hum as it warmed up. Then, to the astonishment of the Delta soldiers and personnel, the eight men disappeared in a flash of light.

After a stunned silence, Spectre turned to Frost. "Care to give us some info on this Samantha person?"

Frost shrugged. They were going to be sworn to secrecy anyway. "Sure."

***The next chapter will be the last one of this story (and also trilogy). But don't be sad - it'll have ZOMBIES in it!***

**Whoa, zombies! Those maggotsacks? I'll introduce them to the Dempsey Diet: Lead, awesome, and ass-kicking! **

***Um, yeah...sure thing. Also, thanks to everyone who has reviewed this story - we've cracked the 50 review mark! So keep it up please ;)***


	9. Lunar Showdown

**All right, time for more replying to reviews...what's that, author? You want to do it for this last chapter? Fine then.**

**Thanks, Dempsey. Yes, since this is the last chapter of the Task Force 935 trilogy, I'll be speaking in my own voice.**

**Firestar001: I'm thinking of writing a seperate fanfic once Black Ops 2 comes out - so be prepared ;)**

**Task Force Metal: Zombie Shephard...you made my day with that!**

**Coolguyforever: Moon is one of the coolest zombie maps :)**

**Lightning Flicker: Well, in this trilogy, Team Metal didn't die in the mine, and the year is 2025 (MW3 was in 2016), so...yeah, I think they could still be alive ;)**

**Spyash2: I hope that I've made it badass enough!**

**Guest (1) : Yep, I've kind of done that.**

**Lily: Don't worry, I'll keep on writing fanfics for the site. Don't you worry!**

**Kirlia481: I laughed picturing terrorists facepalming :D. Anyway, you'll see why she went back to the Moon.**

**A Random Person: Thanks, as always!**

**SLY123: Umm...I'm not comfartable giving out my phone number on here (nothing personal, just precautions). Do you have email?**

**Guest (2) : It's been great writing these too :)**

Chapter 9

**Griffin Base, the Moon**

**June 27, 2025, 05:32:00 Greenwich Meridian Time**

The eight men of Task Force 935 arrived with a flash and crackle of electricity. The four zombie killers stepped out without any hesitation, but the old Task Force 141 members looked around in wonder.

"This is…incredible. To think that we're on the Moon!" Yuri exclaimed.

"And that this base was created years before the Yanks blasted off in their rocket!" Soap added.

Richtofen gave a theatrical yawn. "It's just a Moon base. No biggy."

"Quit gawking and put a PES on. You'll need it if we're going to be searching the entire base for Samantha. That might mean going outside," Dempsey interrupted.

A bit reluctantly, Price, Soap, Yuri, and Nikolai the Pilot followed Dempsey's order. The four zombie killers were already suiting up. Soon, everyone was safely confined in their life-giving PES's.

"This feels really awkward," Nikolai the Pilot commented as he half-bounced, half-strode across the floor. The lower gravity was providing a truly unique and alien experience to the former Task Force 141 men.

"You'll get used to it," Richtofen reassured.

"No you vill not. For you vill be dead soon!" the now familiar voice of Samantha echoed. Also familiar were the distant groans of zombies (it wasn't something that you forgot easily).

"Looks like we're still in business," Nikolai the Drunk said as he went over to the wall. A wooden object lay there. The Russian opened the object's lid and cheerful music played as various guns floated out, changing rapidly. "And why not start it with this thing!"

Yep, the object was the Mystery Box. A well-known item that was both loved and hated, depending on what it spat out. It was about to be hated, for the box decided to give Nikolai the Drunk a ballistic knife.

"Stupid thing," the vodka lover muttered.

"Here, let me have a try," Takeo said. The box closed up, swallowing up the ballistic knife. The Japanese warrior lifted the lid, and got a China Lake.

"Oh, I see. I'm Japanese and I got a China Lake. Not funny." Nevertheless, he decided to take it.

The others also had a go, and got as follows: Richtofen an MP5K, Dempsey a Spas-12, Nikolai the Drunk (having more luck on his second try) an RPK, Price a Commando, Soap a Famas, Yuri an AUG, and Nikolai the Pilot (to the envy of the others) a Ray Gun.

The zombies arrived, slowly bounding across the floor with their arms outstretched. Task Force 935 opened fire, hurling their undead foes backward with the force of their bullets.

"Schweinehund, DIE!" Richtofen shouted.

"Blackjack freaksacks. You lose," Dempsey said as he blasted away a zombie.

"I would say 'BANZAI!' but I am no cliché," commented Takeo as a mass of zombies disappeared in a fiery explosion, courtesy of him.

"Pull down the trigger, zombies die, simple enough," Nikolai the Drunk said to himself as he reloaded. The group continued laying waste to their undead enemies, with the other Nikolai gleefully turning them into charred meat with his Ray Gun.

"What the – what is that?" Soap pointed at a crawling thing approaching the group. Without hesitation, Dempsey shot it, and the thing fell forward and lay still. A cloud of greenish gas came out of it. More of its kind were also approaching.

"Phasing Zombie. Don't let those bastards get near you or else they'll try to blow up on you. Oh yeah, and they can teleport."

"Failed experiments by Dr. Maxis," Richtofen added.

The eight men managed to slaughter the zombies that had attacked them, and checked their weapons and ammo.

"Follow me," Richtofen said. The German was standing beside a door, which opened automatically as he stepped through. The others followed, and once again Price, Soap, Yuri and Nikolai the Pilot were struck by wonderment.

They were outside, in the airless, lifeless environment that was the Moon. A sea of gray stretched out before them, and above the stars shone steadily. No atmosphere was here to make them twinkle as if they were alive. But the best sight was yet to come. As they scanned the void of space, their eyes came to rest on a blue and white sphere, with bits of green and brown poking out from beneath the white.

That sphere was Earth. A home for billions of people, plants, and animals. The only known place in the universe where life existed. It was truly beautiful set against the pitch black backdrop of space. For a moment, all thoughts of Samantha were replaced by marvel over this planet.

"Come on. We have no time to lose," Takeo said. The eight men turned and entered a purple tunnel (Tunnel 6, according to Richtofen).

"Ack!" Yuri let out when a zombie dropped down on him. The ex-Spetsnaz man shoved the undead creature off and stabbed it with his knife.

"They're in the ceiling!" Nikolai the Pilot shouted as more zombies dropped down. Taken by surprise, Task Force 935 decided to use their knives instead of spraying their weapons and likely wasting ammo.

"No hugs buttercup!" Dempsey growled after stabbing a zombie that was attempting to grab him.

"Did I not say –" Nikolai the Drunk shoved a zombie away "– hands off zombie!"

"I will avenge…" Takeo stabbed a zombie that had grabbed him "…myself!"

"Eat it und like it!" shouted Richtofen as he (very gruesomely) used his knife to penetrate a zombie's brain through its mouth. After what seemed like forever, the eight men found themselves holding bloody knives and surrounded by corpses.

Suddenly, a low rumbling shook their bones to the very core. The sound was incredible, demanding recognition for its raw power. It grew closer by the second, and just when one of them was going to speak up, the side of the tunnel disappeared and was replaced by a large metal bucket.

"Oh shit!" Dempsey shouted.

"Ve must get out of here!" Richtofen exclaimed. But it wasn't as simple as that. The bucket had been one of many, attached to the outside of what Task Force 935 guessed was a huge rotating wheel that was moving forward. In the panic when the wall had been breached, half of the group had been separated from the other half. Now, they found themselves divided by an impenetrable hunk of metal.

"Great. This is just what we need," Soap groaned. He, Nikolai the Pilot, Takeo, and Dempsey were on the side farthest away from where they had started.

"Now what?" Price said on the other side. It was lucky that the spacesuits had radios inside of them. Otherwise, they would have no way to talk to each other, since the air had no doubt been sucked out when the wall had been breached. No air would mean no way for sound waves to travel.

"Zhis tunnel leads to the power room," Richtofen said. "Zhere is another tunnel zhat does zhe same, but ve must go back to access it."

"We'll keep going, then," Soap said on the other side. "Meet you guys soon."

Soap's group continued down the tunnel until they emerged into a room that contained several computer banks and a chalk outline of a gun on the wall. Takeo went up to it, and a Stakeout materialized, which he grabbed.

"What's this?" Nikolai the Pilot said. He was standing in front of a curious thing. It was a large pedestal, with a faint blue flare in the center. Off to one side (the one that Nikolai the Pilot was closest to), a slanted piece of metal connected the edge of the pedestal to the floor. A strange circular design was present on that piece.

Takeo's mouth turned into a grim slash. "That was where Samantha lay in suspension. But not anymore."

The other group chose that moment to arrive. Quickly the first group showed the second the vacant pedestal.

"One thing that's bugging me," Dempsey said. "Why the hell did Samantha come back here? There's just a whole bunch of useless shit in this base! And I'm not just talking about maggotsacks."

"Vhy don't I tell you!" Samantha's voice said. She giggled. "But first, you must play a game vith me!"

They all groaned. Her "games" were anything but fun. "Fine, I'll bite. What is it?" Nikolai the Drunk said crossly.

"Hot or Cold!"

"What?" Task Force 935 was thoroughly confused.

"You're cold right now!"

"Okay, I would think that you would tell how to play the damn game first," Dempsey growled.

"Fine." They could just imagine her pouting. "Try to find me."

Out of any other ideas, the eight men split up to begin their search of the base. Yuri decided to go back to Tunnel 11 (the second, unbreached one that Richtofen had mentioned) when Samantha said "Yuri, you're warmer!"

It was then that it clicked in their minds. This was the game where you hid an object (in this case, Samantha herself), let the players search for it, and tell them if they were "warmer" (closer to the object) or "colder" (farther from the object).

Tensed, Task Force 935 entered Tunnel 11. They began their cautious journey forward.

"Warmer!"

They were about a quarter of the way down the tunnel.

"Warmer!"

One half of the tunnel.

"Even warmer!"

Three quarters of the tunnel.

"Hot!"

The eight men stopped. They had halted in front of the automatic door that separated the tunnel from the outside. Strangely, the door hadn't opened when they came near it.

"I've got a bad feeling about this…" Nikolai the Pilot said ominously.

His feeling was right. The door opened as soon as he uttered his statement, and a flood of zombies poured in. Samantha had lured them into a trap!

"Aw shi – fu – that bi – damn it!" Dempsey attempted to let loose his notorious foul mouth, but kept on being interrupted by zombies trying to grab him. Outnumbered and caught off guard, Task Force 935 retreated. Surely they would be able to outrun the zombies and find a better place to hold out!

Alas, Samantha had anticipated this. When they reached the end of Tunnel 11, they found the automatic door unresponsive, stubbornly refusing to let them out of this death trap.

"We're in for it now!" Price said despairingly.

"Not yet, old man!" Soap had found the chalk outline of a grenade on the wall. Having seen what Takeo did to get his Stakeout, Soap put his hand near the outline. Four Semtex grenades materialized, and Soap gratefully grabbed them.

"We got Semtex over here! That'll keep the bastards off our backs for a little bit!"

Quickly, the men armed themselves with the sticky explosives. As soon as the zombies came into view, they let fly.

"Enough spleen for everyone! Wunderbar!"

"For honoooor!"

"This. Never. Gets. Old. Booyah!"

"Want a sip of vodka? Oh, you can't, you're dead!"

Now that a large portion of the zombies had been turned into a collection of raw meat and blood, Task Force 935 decided to switch back to good ol' bullets to take care of the rest (or in Nikolai the Pilot's case, good ol' radioactive rays).

The Semtex grenades had done more damage than they had guessed. It seemed like no time at all had passed when the last zombie moan died away. Wearily anticipating any further traps, they moved forward. Their boots squelched through the gore that they had created (Richtofen actually did a little dance of glee in them), but it seemed like they had defeated this horde.

They reached the end of the tunnel. The door was now open, and they stepped outside into the harsh lunar environment. But all eyes were on a person standing next to a computer terminal, with a finger poised to strike down on the single button that the terminal had. That person was the one who caused this entire fiasco. The one who had created an army to invade Europe. The one who had taken over a base in Siberia.

Samantha.

She had a crazed look in her eyes as she and Task Force 935 stared each other down. Somehow, she was still alive even though she had no PES on. No doubt, her powers were the root of that.

"It's over, Samantha," Price said. "We've killed all your zombies, and you've got nowhere to run. It's all over."

"No it is not!" Also incredible was the fact that her voice came over the radios inside Task Force 935's spacesuits.

"Vhat are you going to do?" Richtofen asked. "Your plan has failed once again."

Samantha let loose a torrent of laughter. "No, Richtofen, my plan has just begun!"

She motioned at the computer terminal beside her. "You see zhis? Vonce I press zhis button, three rockets vill take off from zhis base. Each rocket vill be big enough to destroy a large country, and damage countless others. And once zhey strike, I vill finally have my revenge!"

Soap was shocked. "But…that doesn't make any bloody sense! What did those countries ever do to you?"

"Zhey stopped me from getting vhat I vanted," Samantha replied simply.

"Which is?"

"Richtofen's death." As fast as a veteran soldier, Samantha whipped out a gun and fired. Task Force 935 immediately returned fire. Crimson stains spread across Samantha's clothing, and she swayed as if she was a stalk of grass in the wind. With a slight smile, she toppled over, and lay still on the ground.

It was only after Samantha had collapsed that they realized who had been hit. Richtofen also lay on the ground, his spacesuit torn at his chest, blood flowing out of the wound.

"Shit! Come on, we need to get him out of here!" Price said as he, along with his comrades, rushed to Richtofen's aid. Three of them lifted the fallen German off the ground, while a fourth kept pressure on the wound. It was vital that they kept the spacesuit's tear as tightly sealed as possible, or else the difference in pressure would kill Richtofen for sure. The men reached the teleporter, and activated it without a second thought.

They emerged into the warehouse, back on Earth, where Delta operatives and other military personnel were waiting.

"We've got a man who needs help _now_!" Price called out. He didn't have too; the blood coming from Richtofen's wound told the story just fine. Luckily, some medics had been called to the scene while they were away, and rushed to their aid. The Nazi doctor had gone deathly pale, and the medics began working furiously on him.

The entire scene brought back vivid memories of when they had first met Richtofen at the outpost in Siberia. The German had healed Soap's stab wound with that universal syringe, saving his life. Price glanced at the medics, who were effectively blocking his view of Richtofen. Would it be the same story here?

**One and a half weeks later**

"It's good to see you're okay, mate," said Price.

Task Force 935 were in the hospital room where Richtofen was being kept. Samantha's bullet had miraculously missed any major arteries and organs, and the doctors had reassured them that Richtofen would fully recover.

"Ach, I knew zhat I vould live. I'm a doctor, after all."

"Did you know that they're actually using the teleporter to check out the moon base?" Soap said. "They said it was to recover Samantha's body, but really, there's way more than that."

"Good thing is, Samantha's finished," Nikolai the Pilot said.

"I'm definitely glad it's done and over with," Yuri added.

"That brat is beaten!" Nikolai the Drunk cheered.

"We have been through a lot together," Takeo said. "You are now almost as honorable as me."

"Ah, I could still kick all of your asses," Dempsey replied confidently.

It was hard to believe that it was finally over.

After all the bloodshed, the battles, the bullets, they had come out triumphant at the end.

The world was now free of the revenge-bent Samantha and her minions, be it zombies, Phonies, or others.

It had certainly been a crazy ride.


	10. Afternote

Afternote

**I've had a wonderful time writing the "Task Force 935" trilogy. When I decided to take up the pen (or keyboard, in this case :P) and start "Survival", I never expected such a positive reception from the community. It's a bit sad to see this series come to an end. Believe me; I'm as reluctant as you readers to bid Task Force 935 farewell. But, all good things must come to an end, and I hope that the ending was satisfying and fulfilled your expectations.**

**I'd like to thank everyone who reviewed the fanfics of this trilogy. Whether you were the first ones to review "Survival" or a reader who's just found my fanfics, you're awesome :D . Any reviews for this last chapter will be replied to when I come back after a week and have my replies as a chapter after this.**

**Lastly, I'd like to say that while this is the end of Task Force 935, it's certainly not the end of my fanfics. I'll definitely keep on writing more of them :)**

**Thanks for reading.**


	11. Final Replies to Reviews

**I'm back – with the replies to reviews!**

**Firestar001: I'm very glad you enjoyed it :)**

**Lightning Flicker: Good choice of music :P**

**A Random Person: Thanks a lot :D**

**SLY123: At the start of August, I will begin it. **

**Guest: I'm going to write one using SLY123's idea, as well as maybe writing some WWII CoD fanfics and maybe even going into other categories :)**

**Herp-a-derp: What's with CoD and My Little Pony? Lol xD**


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